


Take me for who I am, Or not at all.

by MyLittleCornerOfSherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drabble, Ficlet, Gen, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock/pseuds/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A take on the innermost thoughts of John and Sherlock before they meet.</p><p>Hold a mirror to my soul</p><p>And find yourself reflected there</p><p>Shatter the mirror into a million pieces</p><p>They are the pieces of you and me</p><p>From now until eternity</p><p>~J.E.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take me for who I am, Or not at all.

**Author's Note:**

> A quickie that I couldn't get out of my head until I wrote it. I apologize that it's not been given a beta-read.

My heart hurts.  I don’t know how else to explain it.  It aches.  I don’t know why I feel this way.  Something or someone is missing.  For someone who thought they knew it all, had it all, and then lost it all, you’d think I’d be able to pinpoint what’s missing in my life.  That I’d be able to figure out why a part of my anatomy causes me pain.  I am a doctor after all.

****

But I was never good at figuring out the emotional side of things.  You’re taught to push it down, push on, push through, push past your emotions, both as a soldier and a doctor.  You can’t let your emotions get in the way of your job, of your duties.  Sure, you can have them.  Sure, you’re entitled to them.  But don’t dwell on them and by all means don’t actually let yourself think about them.  Maybe that’s why I ended up with PTSD, because I dwelled on the what if’s and why’s.  Some soldier, some doctor.  Some failure is more like it.

****

So I walk, cane in hand, limping, trying to find whatever it is that’s missing.  Hoping for a cure, because if there’s a pain, an ache, surely there’s something to fix it.  That’s what being a doctor is about.  Finding the cure, the fixits for the aches and pain of life.  An aspirin for a headache, stitches for the cut, physical therapy for the limp, there are your fixits.  

****

Perhaps I’m going about this all wrong.  A heartache is a dangerous thing.  Maybe it’s the soldier that needs to find what’s missing.  We search, we find, we remove the threat, repair the problem and move on to the next one.

****

But I’m neither of those things anymore.  Who am I, if I’m not a Captain or a Doctor?  I’m useless.  I’m shattered.  No one wants me, and those that think they do, offer out of pity.  If I know one thing, I know I will be NO ONE’S pity case.  Take me for who I am or not at all.

****

My heart hurts.  It aches.  Worse than my leg, worse than my shoulder.  I want to make it stop.  I want to feel better.  I want to find what’s missing.  Or is it who?  But who would want me for me?  As I’ve said, I’m a failure, useless, shattered, and broken.

****

 

* * *

 

****

I’ve built a wall around myself.  I allow no one in.  I am cold, I am distant, I am unfeeling.  Why would I want to?  Emotions just get in the way.  People just get in the way.  The work is all that matters.  Everything else is transport.

****

So why is there an ache in my chest?  I’ve run tests, evaluated all possible scenarios.  There is nothing wrong with me.  I am as healthy as I can be.  I’ve been clean for years now.  My chest shouldn’t ache like...there’s something missing.  I can’t put my finger on it.  A problem unsolved.  But I can’t think about that right now.  There are other things to concern myself with.

****

Then boredom sets in and the problem rises up from the depths where I’d pushed it away, not wanting to deal with it.  Why must it continually raise it’s ugly head?  A voice whispers inside my head _“You’re lonely.”_  I wave it away.  No one would want me.  Who would want someone who can’t feel?  It’s been proven time and again I can’t keep a friend.  I care naught for the social interactions of the day to day.  The dance people do to maintain relationships is laughable. Pet, praise, scold, comfort, I have no time for any of that.  I built the wall for a reason.  If I let no one in, no one can hurt me.

****

I allow myself a moment to feel. Because I am human, I do have some emotions, but I don’t let others see them, I don’t let others know I have them.  I remember what it used to be like, a child, to hope for and want human warmth and compassion.  Then I remember just what humans can do to a child like I was.  I want none of that and the walls come back up.

****

But I’m left with an ache in my chest again.  And I’m left wondering, who would want me?  Who would be my friend, with that warmth and compassion?  Who would take me for who I am?  Because that would take a very different kind of person than I’ve ever met before.  Someone who will take me for me or not at all.  As I’ve said, I’m a cold, unfeeling, emotionless, and as those who have said before, a freak.

****

 

* * *

 

****

_Hold a mirror to my soul_

_And find yourself reflected there_

_Shatter the mirror into a million pieces_

_They are the pieces of you and me_

_From now until eternity_

_**~J.E.** _


End file.
